Ensorcelled
by cupid-painted-blind
Summary: There's a drumming noise inside my head and it starts when you're around. / Katara finds destiny lacking, and seeks out something for herself. Shameless, shameless Zutara.


**ensorcelled**

The beginning was fuzzy - sometime around the fifth year of Zuko's reign, she tired of wandering and wanted to stop and _stay _somewhere for a while, but she found that the Southern Water Tribe was no longer home and the Southern Air Temple was too haunted and Ba Sing Se held too many memories, so she found herself at the Fire Nation capital, shrugging at a surprised Fire Lord and asking if he had a room she could crash in. She supposed, later, that that could be called the beginning, but the truth was that it started earlier than that.

At some point during those five years, she had a nasty epiphany, which was very simple: she was not happy. Aang was - in fact, he was so blindingly happy that it made her ache - but she wasn't. Traveling around the world in the neverending hunt for Airbenders and peace was tiring and boring, and she wanted to do something other than constantly search.

She wanted to _find_, but the problem was, she didn't know what she was actually looking for. So she told Aang that she would spend some time in the Fire Nation, keeping Zuko company and making sure he wasn't screwing up the world by accident, and tried not to wince when he kissed her. That had been happening more often lately, both the kissing and the wincing, and she knew that Aang was ready for this relationship to go further than the stagnant place it had been for five years, but she just... didn't.

There was no real reason _not_ to (although her father's admonishing voice telling her that she really ought to settle down and marry at some point soon kept rising up in the back of her mind) other than the fact that she just wasn't _attracted_ to him, not enough to - well.

Her reasoning was, besides the making sure that Zuko wasn't being stupid, that maybe after some time away from Aang, she would remember how much she actually enjoyed those kisses and how much she actually wanted to take things further.

After all, distance makes the heart grow fonder.

Right?

* * *

_there's a drumming noise inside my head  
and it starts when you're around

* * *

_

The first day after Aang left the Fire Nation, she thought that she might have made a mistake. She woke up stupidly early, and so swelteringly hot that she was reasonably certain she was melting, and found herself with absolutely nothing to do. So, she wandered down to the kitchen, inadvertently terrified a servant, and got some fruit for breakfast, wondering vaguely what she was actually going to do with her time now that she was here.

Three hours and an unwilling tour later (given by the same terrified servant), she was right back at the door to her room, bored and kind of sleepy and more unhappy than she'd ever been while traveling with Aang.

And that was when she ran into a harassed-looking Zuko, trying to escape a particularly ornery old man who seemed to think that Zuko owed him money, or possibly land. "I don't really know," he said, breathing hard and leaning against the wall. "He keeps changing his mind. I think he's insane."

"So kick him out of the palace," she replied, like it was obvious, and he glared at her.

"You think I haven't tried? He used to be a general in my grandfather's army. I can't kick him out without really pissing off about half the country."

"That does sound like a problem," she mused, running to catch up with him as he took off again at the sound of uneven footsteps. "But why are you running from him?"

"You don't want to find out," he muttered, and steered her toward his private office. "Here, he can't get in here without my permission - and," he added, louder, to the guard, "I'm not giving it. You hear me? _No one_ is allowed inside here."

"Of course, my lord," the guard replied, stifling a snicker. Katara, already annoyed and sleepy, slapped him across the chest with a water-whip, and took intense pleasure in the especially girly yelp he let off.

"Why did you do that?" Zuko asked once they were inside, face buried in his hand.

"He was laughing at you," she replied, shrugging.

"And you care because?"

"It's been a long day."

He blinked. "It's nine in the morning."

"Exactly," she countered, spying a really comfortable-looking chair nestled in-between a pair of overstuffed bookshelves, and making her way over to collapse in it. On the way, however, she got distracted by the books and scrolls. Who knew Zuko liked to read? "What are all of these?" she asked absently, running a finger over a thick, leather-bound spine whose title had all-but flaked off. He walked over.

"Just some old books and things," he replied nonchalantly. "Most of them have been around forever."

Gingerly, she pulled the thick book out and inspected the cover. "What is this one? It doesn't say..."

"That's..." he started, and leaned over her shoulder to look, so close she could smell him, a spicy, subtle sort of scent that made her heart leap into her throat against her will. He reached over and opened it, and then laughed a bit. "It's _One Thousand and One Nights_," he told her, smiling. "You might like it."

"You've read it?" she asked, surprised because, well, the book _was_ thicker than her leg. He moved away and glared at her, much to her (unwilling) dismay.

"Why is that surprising?" he accused, crossing his arms. "I read."

"I just..." she said, trying to rectify the situation and also to overcome the strange way her mind had slowed down, "didn't think you had time to. Especially not something this long."

He relaxed slightly and shrugged. "I've got most of the nights to myself," he said, and the unspoken reason - now that he and Mai were broken up _again_ - floats in the air. "And it helps me sleep. Besides, I really like that book," he added, a little sheepishly. Suddenly, she pictured Zuko furtively sneaking this giant, ancient tome around and slipping away to read it during the day or hiding it under his chair and reading it during boring council meetings. She snickered. "What?" he asked, that accusing note back in his voice.

"Nothing," she replied, laughing. "It's nothing. Tell me what it's about."

"I don't think I should," he said sardonically. She stuck her nose up in the air.

"Well, _fine_," she huffed, still trying not to laugh, "I'll just have to borrow it and read it myself."

Zuko rolled his eyes.

* * *

_i swear that you could hear it  
it makes such an almighty sound

* * *

_

She started reading the book that night, and found that it _was_ engrossing. She quite liked Scheherazade and her quick thinking, although she wondered at the wisdom of telling a sociopathic king some of the stories she was telling. Had she been in the queen's position, she probably would have told only happy, cheerful stories where everyone _survived_ and people fell deeply in love and _didn't_ kill their spouses, ever.

She understood why Zuko liked it so much, though, because there were so many different stories within it - much like Zuko, who was sometimes like a thousand different people all mixed up into one man. She wondered which tale was his favorite, although she thought she might know.

"It's either the tale of Ala ad-Din, or the tale of the ruined man," she said, sitting on his desk in (again) his private office. He didn't even glance up from the proposal he was reading.

"You've read that far already?" he asked, not really paying attention to her. He had gotten used to her presence in the two weeks she'd been there, and the fact that she would muscle her way into his life whether he liked it and approved of it or not. She pulled her legs into a semi-lotus position and leaned back, examining the proposal he was staring at.

"I read quickly," she replied lightly, and pointed to a clause in smaller print. "They're trying to con you."

"I know," he said, making a face. "But if I turn it down, they'll act like I'm a despot."

"Make them re-write it," she offered. "Or bring it up in that meeting tomorrow and approve it on your terms."

He tilted his head. "That might work," he muttered, and leaned back in his chair. "So, you're already past the tale of the ruined man?"

"Yup," she replied, nodding, and then went on at the look on his face. "What _else_ do I have to do? If I'm not in here bugging you, I'm sitting in my room, reading. It's not like I've got a buzzing social life here."

He laughed outright at this. "I'm so sorry that you find Fire Nation high society less interesting than running around with your boyfriend."

_I didn't say that_, she thought, but instead rolled her eyes. "Well, I was led to believe there were parties and social gatherings here. I think I was lied to."

Zuko raised his eyebrow. "Where'd you hear that from? Ty Lee?"

"Maybe."

"That explains it," he replied, crossing his arms. "Ty Lee goes to any party that's going on anywhere, whether it's thrown by royalty or prostitutes. If you run around with her, then, yeah, you'll be at a different party every hour."

She wrinkled her nose. "That doesn't exactly sound like my idea of a good time."

"It's not anyone's idea of a good time. Except Ty Lee," he added, running a hand through his hair. He had developed the habit of taking it out of its topknot whenever he was alone, or with her - she got the impression that he didn't much like having it up anymore. It seemed like he was distancing himself from everything about his father, as much as he could: he kept his hair short and his face shaven, he wore simple clothes rather than the elaborate robes of his station, and he refused to set up the giant flames that had always shrouded the Fire Lord during any official function. It only sort of worked; having seen paintings of Ozai and occasionally the man himself, she couldn't deny the very obvious fact that Zuko looked very much like his father.

Except for the scar.

She had considered, on several occasions over the years, offering to take him to the Spirit Oasis to see if she could remove it, but now she thought that it was better that he kept it. It was a sign of who he was and how far he'd come, and it set him apart from all of the other members of the Fire Nation nobility who had never suffered because of the war - it made him human in the eyes of the people, both in the Fire Nation and in the rest of the world. It was a good thing, in a twisted sort of way.

"Anyway," she said, aware of the stark change in atmosphere that had suddenly occurred but unsure of how to deal with it, "which one? Ala ad-Din or the tale of the ruined man?" she asked, but already knew.

"The ruined man," he replied, smiling a little. "What he needed was right under his feet the whole time, but he never would have found it if he hadn't lost everything."

"I liked that too," she whispered.

* * *

_there's a drumming noise inside my head  
and it throws me to the ground

* * *

_

She did not intend to sneak into Zuko's room.

She had discovered the secret passage purely by accident - she'd been cleaning up while also reading and, distracted by the tale of Sinbad, had tripped and run headlong into the wall right beside the wardrobe, and when she heard a loud, scraping noise, realized that there was more to the palace than she'd initially thought. It had taken her several minutes of strenuous pushing to realize that she could not move the heavy wardrobe, although she had managed to nudge it a fraction of an inch, enough to feel the slight breeze from the now-open passage.

She'd looked around and landed on the very pretty bouquet of flowers that some creep had sent her (under the apparent impression that this gesture would make her turn away from Aang and leap desperately into his arms) and sighed. They were really gorgeous flowers, even if the man who had given them to her made her feel slimy to think about, but well, her curiosity simply would _not_ be sated unless she explored the passage, so the flowers would have to pay the price.

Pulling the water out of the flowers and leaving depressing brown husks behind, she formed a thin layer of ice underneath the wardrobe, allowing her to push it aside and giving her room to maneuver behind it.

This was how she ended up in Zuko's room - the passage led directly to it, no turns or branches, just a straight shot to the Fire Lord's chambers (she presumed that this meant she was in the Fire _Lady's_ chambers, because there was no other reason for a passage like that). He wasn't in his room when she opened the passage, but she could hear him rummaging around in the washroom and her mischievous streak flared up again.

She slipped under the curtains around his bed and waited right on the edge, barely stifling a laugh, for him to enter, so she could leap out and scare the ever-loving _daylights _out of him. He was going to kill her, and _oh_ it would be worth it. Finally, after what seemed like hours, the bathroom door opened.

"Yaah!" she cried, jumping out from the curtains. Zuko _shrieked_ - there was no other word for it - and stumbled backwards, somehow managing to catch himself and draw his Dao swords from the wall in a single move, lunging for her in self-defense. It took him a few seconds to recognize her, and then he dropped the swords from her throat, turning red and gasping for breath.

"Why the _hell _would you - what are you - _how?_" he spluttered, but Katara couldn't stop laughing.

"You shrieked!" she howled. "Like a little girl!"

Zuko scowled at her and replaced the swords on the wall, and it was right about then that she realized that he wasn't wearing a shirt and was, in fact, wet, as though he'd just stepped out of the bath. Blood rose to her face. "I might have killed you, you know."

"But you didn't," she countered, a little breathlessly, and he crossed his arms.

"How did you even get here?" he asked, still scowling. She pointed to the wall and the still-open passage.

"You put me in the Fire Lady's room, didn't you?"

The scowl melted from his face as he processed this information. "Yeah," he said slowly, turning a little green. "I didn't know there was a... Nngh."

She tried to laugh again, but it came out nervous. Why had this seemed like a good idea? She was in Zuko's room - on his _bed!_ - and he had just gotten out of the bath and at least he was wearing pants but he wasn't wearing a shirt and she was dressed for bed already and this was a stupid idea and _oh man_ she could smell his soap from here and it was that same spicy smell that made her brain slow down and her heart run on overdrive and. And.

"All right, all right," he growled, waving his hand at her. "You've had your fun, now go back to your own room."

That was, she figured, the last thing she wanted. "Trying to get rid of me?" she asked, hands on her hips. He coughed.

"No! I mean. It's just." He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "You came in here just to scare me?" he asked, steering the conversation away from the question of whether she would stay or leave.

"I wanted to know where the passage went," she replied honestly. "When I figured out it was your room, _then _I decided to scare you."

"Mature," he said sardonically, and she grinned.

"Oh lighten up, grumpypants," she said, bouncing on his (really comfy) bed. He coughed again.

"I am not grumpy."

She snorted. "You're the grumpiest person in the world," she countered, and then beamed. "But that's okay, because we still love you."

He rolled his eyes. "So, you've decided that bothering me all day isn't enough?" She abruptly stopped bouncing and the smile left her face. Was he really that annoyed by her presence?

"I..." she started, feeling suddenly down. Sure, he always huffed and told her she was an annoying little monkey, but he had never kicked her out or stopped her from coming around, so she'd figured it was all just talk. But what if it wasn't? What if he really didn't like her being around? What if he didn't really want her to barge into his office and help him with boring paperwork? What if he... just didn't? "I'm sorry," she said quietly, crawling off his bed.

"I didn't mean - " he cried, catching her arm. "I wasn't... You don't have to go."

"I wasn't trying to annoy you," she muttered, trying to pull her arm out of his grip.

"Yes, you were," he said, trying to lighten the mood, but it didn't really work. He sighed. "That was the wrong thing to say. You don't annoy me. I mean, you do, but," he released her arm abruptly and let out a frustrated yell.

"It's all right," she replied, already halfway in the passage, "I was in the middle of reading about Sinbad anyway."

"Katara - " he called after her, but she didn't turn around.

* * *

_i swear that you should hear it  
it makes such an almighty sound

* * *

_

She tried to reflect on, well, everything, that night. All she managed to figure out was that she didn't really miss Aang, even though he sent her letters as often as possible, and that it really stung to think that Zuko might not actually want her around.

She didn't want to reflect on _why _either of these were as they were - after all, Zuko and Mai might not technically be together, but they had broken up and gotten back together at least six or seven times in the past five years, and she was still with the very loving, very sweet Avatar, the one that she was, she reminded herself, In Love With.

Even though she didn't really know what Love was. From what she'd seen, it was supposed to be happy and gentle and kind, just like Aang, but then Aang bored her and Aang wasn't really what she wanted for herself. This was frustrating, because she and Aang were written in the stars, right? He was her fated love, right?

Then why wasn't she happy with him? If it was fate, if it was meant to be, then why didn't she enjoy being with Aang? Why would she rather sit around in Zuko's office and read from an ancient book about a murderous king and his desperate wife than run around and keep peace with the Avatar? Why would she rather argue with Zuko all day than be worshiped by Aang for only a moment?

And that was when it hit her - Aang _worshiped _her, but he didn't see her. He didn't see her flaws, or if he did, he strove to _fix_ them, and he placed her on a pedestal where he could bow at her feet, thinking she was the most perfect woman in the world. It sounded romantic, but in practice, it was just exhausting.

Aang saw a goddess where he should have seen a partner - that was why she didn't want to sleep with him. He held her at such a standard that she didn't think she could ever measure up. With him, she had to be perfect, wonderful, always the amazing Katara who could never fail or be petty or annoying or childish. Aang didn't give her room to trip up.

That was why she was here in the first place. Zuko had seen her at her worst, he'd been there when she'd bent the blood in a man's veins for nothing more than vengeance, and he'd never judged her. Probably didn't think he had the room to, because whatever she'd done, Zuko had probably done worse. Zuko treated her like an equal, and after five years of being treated like the perfect woman, she found it oddly refreshing to have no standard and nothing to prove.

That explained why she'd run here in her effort to escape, but it didn't explain why her heart pounded when he was near or why she'd been so hurt when he'd said that she annoyed him. And those questions, she didn't want the answers to. Not now. Not yet.

It took her almost a week to get over her embarrassment and her anger with Zuko to speak to him again. This time, for the first time since she'd gotten here, she knocked on the door to his office. After a muffled _come in_, she opened the door and found him standing, prepared to greet whoever had come to call on him, hair pulled up into a hasty topknot.

"Am I interrupting?" she asked, and he relaxed.

"No," he replied, tugging his hair down and shaking it out. She walked over to his desk and leaned against it, trying to remember what it was she came here to say. Something about being sorry and all of this being all mixed up and something about Aang - but all that came out was:

"I'm sorry." She winced. "For sneaking into your room and spooking you. It was immature, I know."

"It's all right," he said, awkwardly running his hand through his hair. "I shouldn't have said that. You don't annoy me."

This didn't feel right, she thought. It felt awkward and uncomfortable.

So she took a leaf out of Toph's Book of Dealing With Life, and whipped him on the back of the head with a water-whip. "No, you shouldn't have," she said, smirking. He glared at her and punched her lightly on the arm (which still hurt though; Zuko was stronger than he looked).

"Well, you shouldn't sneak around and scare me."

"You shouldn't hit girls."

He laughed out loud at this, but stopped short when she whipped him again, and retaliated with a burst of fire. All of a sudden, they were standing on opposite sides of his office, trying not to laugh, preparing to fight each other. _This_ felt right. Unfortunately, they only got a few steps into their fight before Zuko realized that they were fighting with water and fire around his very precious bookshelves, and declared that she was a horrible person for instigating this.

"Me?" she cried, indignant. "You started with the fire!"

"You attacked me!"

"You deserved it!"

She threw the first punch, a little harder than intended, right onto his shoulder. He responded by sweeping low and kicking her feet out from under her, so she kicked him in the knee to bring him down to her level, and then jumped onto his back and hooked an arm around his throat. "Yield," she whispered, right into his ear, trying to focus on the fight at hand rather than the warmth of his body against hers or that spicy smell of his soap. This got considerably easier when he wrenched her arm off of his throat and used it as leverage to pull her to the ground and pin her underneath him.

"Yield," he said, smirking. She tried valiantly not to blush, bringing her knee up and catching him in the gut. It went on in much the same vein for a while, until she managed to get on top of him, pinning his arms to the ground with either of her knees, and he finally yielded.

"Ha!" she cried, leaning back onto his stomach and ignoring the pounding of her own heart. "I knew I could beat you."

He muttered something under his breath and poked her in the stomach so she would move. Briefly, she flirted with the idea of moving a little further down - but caught herself. They were friends, right?

And friends don't act like that. (_This,_ she thought, but pushed it away.)

* * *

_i ran to a tower where the church bells chime  
i hoped that they would clear my mind

* * *

_

She sneaked into his room again, but didn't scare him this time. He just rolled his eyes when she barged in, demanding to know what else he would recommend that she read because she had finished _One Thousand and One Nights_ and now she was bored, which meant that she planned to be as obnoxious as possible until he found something else for her to do.

"Oh, no," he deadpanned, hanging up the formal robes he'd been forced to wear for the late-night, emergency council meeting he'd been called to. Really, that was why she was here - she wanted to know what that had been all about, and to know if she could help in any way, but Zuko wasn't exactly the most willing person in the world when it came to accepting help (especially from someone who had beaten him in a fight earlier in the day), so she thought this might be a better way of breaking the ice. That, and it was true. "Whatever will I do."

She stuck her tongue out at him and set the heavy book down on the nightstand. "So, come on. What should I read next, oh Master of All Things Literary?"

He snorted. "You'll have to look in the office tomorrow. I don't keep a lot of books in here."

"Why not?" she asked, inspecting one of the draperies on the wall. It was very high-quality, but otherwise boring, just a deep red color. Pretty, but she was getting tired of red. The Fire Nation was in desperate need of some other colors in its decorations.

Zuko shrugged. "I just don't. I don't spend a lot of time here, I guess." Silence fell for a long moment, and then he sighed. "You're waiting for me to tell you what that meeting was about, aren't you?"

"You know me too well," she replied, trying to smile, but failing at the look on his face. Apparently, it had not gone well. "What happened?" she asked, more seriously.

"A rebellion, of course," he growled, collapsing onto his bed. "But it's not against me, this time."

She crawled up onto the bed next to him. "What are they rebelling against, then? Kuei?"

He shook his head. "We just got the news from Bumi. They led an attack against Omashu."

"Omashu?" she repeated, confused. "Why Omashu?"

"It's not Bumi they're out to overthrow, or, well, not just him." He hesitated, and ran a hand over his face. "It's bending. Benders. They killed anyone they found who was bending anything, regardless of what element."

She sat up, horrified. "What? How many - ?"

"Don't know yet," he replied quietly. "Hundreds, maybe more. Aang will probably make his way there. Where was he last?"

"The Northern Water Tribe," she answered, and then shook her head. "But it'll take him a long time to get there, even on Appa. Where were they attacking from?"

"We don't know that either," he said. He looked strangely defeated. "They appeared, attacked, and then vanished, just as quickly."

"An anti-bending revolt..." she breathed, turning over and burrowing into Zuko's pillow. "Why?"

"There are a lot of reasons," he replied, just as softly. "Most of the violence that's been committed in the past century was done by benders, and because of them. It's... not that surprising, I guess."

She looked over at him. He hadn't opened his eyes, just laying still as though he could fall through the bed and disappear into the darkness. She was overcome, suddenly, with the desire to save him, to make everything _okay_, like that horrible moment under Ba Sing Se when she'd reached out to him and he'd closed off from her - she wanted to fix everything that was wrong in his world, but she lacked something vital, something that she needed in order to do that. Somehow, just like then, she was falling short of saving Zuko.

Pain, and a few terrible memories, bubbled up into her thoughts. Instead of giving in to them, she reached out and took his hand. Abruptly, he opened his eyes and turned to her.

"So what are we going to do?" she asked quietly.

"I don't know," he whispered.

* * *

_they left a ringing in my ear  
but that drum's still beating loud and clear

* * *

_

A few days later, she got a letter from Aang telling her everything that Zuko had already told her, and also telling her that she should stay safely in the Fire Nation capital where she would be protected by all kinds of guards, which almost made her angry enough to leave right then. If not for the fact that she was planning to stick by Zuko through this mess, she would have gone, just to give Aang a piece of her mind - like she needed to stay safe! She could take care of herself quite well, thank you very much, and didn't need _anyone_ to coddle her or protect her.

"He didn't mean it like that," Zuko said, reading the letter after she'd all-but thrown it from her in fury. "He's just concerned."

"I don't _need_ his concern!" she cried. "I can take care of myself just fine!"

"He knows that, Katara," Zuko insisted. "Anyone would be worried."

But she wasn't worried about Aang, or at least, not really. He was the _Avatar_ - it wasn't like he couldn't take care of a couple of angry non-benders. He had been just fine without her, and she had been better-than-fine without him, and it wasn't until just now that she realized that. She sighed, and sank into the obscenely comfortable chair by the bookshelves. "I know. I guess..." she started, but trailed off.

"You guess what?"

"It's not important," she mumbled, looking away and trying to focus on the rain outside rather than the storm within.

"Katara," Zuko said sharply, crossing his arms. "What's going on with you and Aang?"

"Do you really care?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "I mean, there are worse things going on in the world, you know?"

He ran a hand through his hair and leaned against his desk. "I do. And there isn't anything I can do about those things right now, so, yeah, I'd rather talk about something else."

She closed her eyes. "I wasn't happy, okay? I thought - I mean, everyone says that Aang and I were meant to be, or that we were the perfect couple, but I just... wasn't." She took a deep breath. "He wanted to... You know..." Glancing at him, she could see that he didn't know what she was trying not to say, so she just plunged right in. "He was ready to take our relationship to, um, the next level," she said, squirming.

"And you didn't?"

She shook her head, unable to get over how incredibly _awkward _this conversation was. "Every time I tried to think about it, it just felt _wrong_. And I was always bored. He did all the work wherever we were, and I didn't have anything to do, so it was like I was only there as arm candy..." She sighed, trying to blow her bangs out of her eyes and failing. "We went by Toph's place in Ba Sing Se, and she could tell that, well, nothing was right. I... lied to her," she admitted, looking away. "I kept saying that everything was just fine and great and perfect."

"Of course, she knew you were lying," Zuko said, crossing his arms. "But why did you come here? It didn't seem like you wanted to talk about it, so I didn't ask, but..."

"I thought that if I got away for a while, I would suddenly realize that I was in love with him after all," she sighed, twirling her hair around one finger.

"That never works," he replied, in the tone of someone who knew from experience. She groaned.

"I don't know, they say that absence makes the heart grow fonder."

"They lied," he said sardonically. "Mai and I tried that a few times. It reminds you why you cared in the first place, and then you get back together and realize why you broke up. Bad idea."

"So, what? I'm supposed to just break the Avatar's heart?" she asked, but it came out harsher than she'd intended. She hadn't meant to throw this all on Zuko - after all, it wasn't his fault that she wasn't in love with Aang - but her frustration had been mounting with every letter she'd gotten, and lately, she was running out of patience with her supposed true love, which translated into running out of patience, period. "Everyone in the world will hate me."

"And Mai's mother tried to lead a revolt against me when I broke up with her daughter the last time," he said, shrugging, although he was clearly annoyed. "You've got to decide which matters more."

"Which matters more?" she repeated, anger rising. She kept trying to tell herself that Zuko was just trying to help, and that it wasn't fair to him that she attack him like this, but _dammit_, she was _tired. _Tired of people acting like she was committing a horrible crime by staying in the Fire Nation rather than supporting Aang incessantly, tired of the constant tirade of _you're so lucky to have found your true love at such a young age_, tired of pretending to be in love, tired of her own confusion, tired of the way her heart pounded in her head whenever she was around Zuko, tired of - everything. "It's not my choice to make! The world needs Aang and Aang needs me! I don't have a say! Whatever Aang wants, Aang gets. Even if that's me," she cried, trying not to break down into tears.

"Why don't you _talk _to him and work things out between the two of you?" Zuko asked, angry at her for being angry at him. "Or - I know! - why don't you stop running away and _deal _with it like an adult?"

"Oh, you're one to talk!" she shouted, standing up. "You keep breaking up with Mai and then getting back together, you can't just tell her that it's over, once and for all, can you? You don't have the _spine_ to break it off for good!"

"You're accusing _me_ of cowardice?" he shouted back, just as loud. "_You're_ the one who came to me and begged me to give you a place to hide out from your boyfriend because you were too damn scared to admit that you didn't want to have sex with him!"

"How many times have you broken Mai's heart because you can't just end it? At least I _care_ about Aang!"

"I care about Mai!"

"Well, you sure as _hell _don't act like it! If you - " All of a sudden, their shouting match was broken by a knock on the door. They both froze, staring blankly at it as though it was about to explode, and finally, Zuko said - in a very tight voice -

"Come in."

It was a servant, looking terrified, and he was holding a letter in his shaking hands. "I didn't mean to intrude, Lord Zuko, but you had asked that all correspondence from your uncle be given top priority and I thought - " Zuko cut him off by snatching the letter from him and dismissing him with a wave of his hand (Katara seethed at this: couldn't he _at least _say something to the poor guy?). He unrolled the letter and read it quickly, and then took a deep, calming breath.

"Uncle is coming here," he said tersely.

"Well, that's good," she replied.

The air between them crackled with tension and fury, so thick that she thought it might spontaneously burst into flames. Only the slightest hint of guilt stirred in her gut; she _had_ started this fight, and Zuko _had_ only been trying to help. But she was still too angry, too hurt, and too stressed-out to bear starting on the road to apology.

Without another word, she turned on her heel and marched from the room.

* * *

_louder than sirens  
louder than bells

* * *

_

Later that night, while he was still out in meetings, trying to soothe tensions between other people, she sneaked into his room again, much calmer, prepared to explain her anger and apologize to him. Because she could be the bigger person, and because it wasn't Zuko's fault, and because she didn't like being mad at him. She wanted to be able to hang out in his office with him, talking politics or books or just whatever came to mind, and she wanted to be able to lounge on his bed and discuss their lives and help him deal with his country. She didn't want to skirt around him or lock herself up in her room like she had the last time she was angry with him.

So she waited, laying flat on his bed and breathing in that stupid spicy scent that defined him, and tried to decide on something to say. _I'm sorry_, she thought, or maybe _I never thought you were a coward, ever_ or possibly _I wasn't mad at you, I was mad at myself_, but none of it seemed sufficient.

By the time he shuffled into his room, it was past midnight and she was almost asleep. She jumped when the door opened, and he stared at her for a long moment before he closed the door behind him and very deliberately ignored her, walking over to his wardrobe and calmly removing the heavy robes without saying a word. A stab of anger lanced through her, but she swallowed it - she deserved this.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I wasn't - I was just mad at Aang and myself and I blew up at you and you didn't deserve it and I'm sorry, Zuko, I really am. I said a lot of... mean things, and it was wrong but I've just been so _frustrated_ and confused lately, and I know you've had it like fifty times worse, with all these stupid rebellions and I came here because I thought I could help you and I didn't mean to make things worse and I'm sorry, okay?" It all came out in a rush and she sat there for a long moment, feeling terribly stupid, until Zuko finally sighed and turned.

"I understand," he replied shortly, and left it at that. The dismissal was clear - her apology was accepted, but he wasn't quite prepared yet to forgive. It stung, hard, like a slap to the face.

She now understood the position she had put him in, back at the Western Air Temple. With as much dignity as she could muster, she nodded and left through the passage, and made it all the way back to her room, even managing to close the passage behind her, before she crumpled against the wall and began to cry.

* * *

_sweeter than heaven  
and hotter than hell

* * *

_

Iroh arrived three days later, and - not coincidentally - that was the same day that she and Zuko actually made up. She had no doubt that he had talked to his uncle about their fight, although she sincerely hoped that he had left at least a few of the details out, namely the reason she had run from Aang.

Unfortunately, Iroh also had the habit of invading Zuko's private office, which made things crowded and more than slightly awkward. She was, embarrassingly enough, desperate to be alone with Zuko, not just to talk to him but also to be around him, in that comfortable silence they had developed in the now-months she'd been in the palace, and Iroh's presence made things... uncomfortable. He didn't seem to have any problem with her being involved in Fire Nation politics - indeed, Iroh seemed overjoyed to see her helping Zuko out - but she still felt like she was intruding whenever he was there.

Zuko was, at the moment, trying to convince his uncle to act as regent so he could go to Omashu and help to find the rebels, but Iroh (and Katara) were vehemently opposed.

"Your people need you now," Iroh said gravely. "They need to know that you're going to be here to protect them in case this rebellion spreads."

"Plus," she added, "it'll show those guys that they can't shake you."

"Wouldn't it be better to actually _be_ there, instead of stuck here?" Zuko grumbled, clearly chafing under the near-total lack of freedom that being Fire Lord entailed. She understood that, intimately, but she also understood that if he rushed out now, things would be worse later.

"Aang can take care of himself, and Toph is already with Bumi, so he'll have their support, too," she insisted, leaning forward and suppressing the urge to take his hand. "The Fire Nation needs you. I know how lame it feels to be sitting around a palace while everyone else is out fighting, but you're doing a lot of important work here, too."

He looked up then, and met her eyes. "And what about you?" he asked. "Where will you be?"

"Here," she replied, without even pausing to think. Iroh shifted almost imperceptibly beside her. "I'll be here." _With you._ "We'll show those rebels that the Fire Nation is strong."

"What if they attack the Water Tribes?"

She took a deep breath - it was a legitimate question, but one she wasn't fully prepared to answer. Master Pakku and a whole regiment of waterbenders was at the Southern Tribe, so she highly doubted that any non-bender would be able to best them in a fight, and not to mention that the climate at the poles would deter all but the best-prepared of attacks. And the Northern Tribe had repelled the Fire Nation for a full century, so they were more than capable of dealing with anything that came their way. They didn't really need her, she realized, and it almost hurt.

But Zuko - Zuko needed her here. He needed her support and help, and the world needed to see them work together, to prove that this rebellion would not fracture the nations again.

"The Water Tribes are strong," she said slowly, feeling like she was letting go of something heavy. "They don't need my help right now. But the world needs to see that the nations won't split apart so easily. I'll stay."

Iroh's hand rested warm on her shoulder, and when she glanced to him, he was smiling. "You are right, Lady Katara. It is important that we present a unified front."

Zuko didn't seem convinced, but he sighed and leaned back in his chair, face clouded. She knew what he was thinking - that he was weak to stay safe and comfortable here in the palace when his comrades, his _friends_, were out fighting a battle for all of them - but she didn't know how to make him see that it wasn't weak, that he wasn't a coward, that it was the best thing for everyone. She thought that maybe he _knew_, he just didn't _accept._

And that, Katara understood, down to her very bones.

"It'll be all right," she said softly, but Zuko didn't respond.

* * *

_as i move my feet towards your body  
i can hear this beat

* * *

_

"Bad idea, Sparky," she said, standing in the passageway, arms crossed. Zuko cursed under his breath.

"I'm starting to think you're abusing that passage."

"You're not sneaking out to the Earth Kingdom to fight those rebels," she said, ignoring his frustration. She didn't _want_ to anger him again, but she was firm in her conviction that the worst possible thing he could do right now was leave, so she stood her ground. "It's a terrible idea, and I won't let you do it."

"You don't have to let me do anything," he growled, glaring at her. He was dressed in all black, like when they'd hunted for Yon Rha, and she was unwillingly distracted by his tight shirt. "I'm going, whether you like it or not. I'm not going to stay here when they need me!"

"What about your people?" she countered, forcing herself to focus. "_They_ need you, a lot more than Aang and Toph do."

"Uncle can - " he started, but she cut him off, storming up to him and poking him in the shoulder.

"No, your Uncle can't! The people need _you_, they need to believe that _they _are your first priority, and that you won't shove them off on your Uncle the first time something more interesting comes up! You're the one who's brought them this far. It's _you_ they look up to and it's _you_ they need. You've spent the past five years earning their respect, and I'm not going to let you throw it all away because you can't be patient!"

She was breathing heavily with a little anger and a lot of something else, something that ran deep in her blood, a warm pulse and a drum-beat in her skull, that had nothing to do with their conversation and everything to do with how close Zuko was and the smell of his soap and his clothes and _him_. Her heart was somewhere in her stomach and her hands were shaking and her mind was cloudy with an increasingly familiar emotion. Aang had never made her breathe like this, never made her heart pound like this, never made her _want_ like this.

A desperate fear rose in her gut, but she forced herself to stay right where she was, even though every instinct was screaming at her to run - because these feelings and these thoughts and these needs were _all wrong_ and all mixed-up and she shouldn't have been wanting what she was wanting. Especially not right now, when there were bigger things afoot than her poorly-timed lust. Zuko was glaring at her finger, still poking him in the shoulder, as though he could make her disappear if he willed it hard enough.

"Aang - "

"Forget about Aang!" she cried, and it wasn't just the rebellion she was talking about. "He can take care of himself. At least for something like this. Think about the people here, what they need." She stepped closer - _bad idea_ - and glared at him, straight in the eyes. "Zuko, what do your people need?"

"A strong leader," he replied tightly.

"And that's you, Zuko, whether you think so or not," she said sharply, trying not to breathe too deeply, for fear of being obvious, and hoped that he would think she was angry. "They need you," she added, in a softer voice. She flattened her hand against his chest, and found it warm, so warm, and she could feel his heartbeat, wild and erratic against her palm. The moment stretched between them, the air thick with things unsaid and bad ideas, so tense she could taste it.

If the situation had been in a romance novel, he would have swept her into his arms right then and insisted that what _he_ needed was _her_, but instead, he just sighed and turned away, leaving her disappointed and cold.

"I just," he started, and his voice was hoarse, "I feel _useless_ stuck here."

"I know," she said, after taking a moment to gather herself. "But you're the farthest thing from useless. Tomorrow, or maybe the next day, we'll go out into the city and talk to the people, let them know that you'll be here for them through all of this, okay? And then you'll see."

He laughed mirthlessly, even kind of desperately, and looped an arm around the bedpost. "I hate speeches," he muttered.

"Well, you're in luck," she replied as brightly as she could, "because it's just so happens that speeches are my _thing._" He glanced at her, a little amused now, and she smiled. "I'll help you write out a really amazing speech, and I'll be standing right beside you when you give it, okay?" He didn't reply, so she leaned forward, hands on her hips. "Okay?"

"Okay," he replied.

* * *

_it fills my head up and gets louder and louder  
it fills my head up and gets louder and louder

* * *

_

" - I want you, then, to continue life as normal, and show the rebels that we cannot be brought down." Zuko's voice was loud, imperial, and strong, and if she didn't know him as well as she did, she might have thought that he was utterly fearless in the face of a very real threat. It was inspiring, and she could see admiration in the faces of his people. They had finally, finally, _finally _put their trust entirely in their leader - and it had only taken five years and about a hundred small rebellions to bring them over to his side once and for all. She stood on his right side, and Iroh on his left, showing the assembly that they were unified, strong, _worthy_ of their trust.

She was so damn proud of him it almost hurt. He had come so far in the time since he had sailed around the world on the hunt for the Avatar, and if she had known, then, that she would be standing here now, she would have laughed until she was sick. As the crowd broke into raucous applause and cheering, Zuko stepped down and managed to get all the way back inside before nearly collapsing out of nerves.

"That was a bigger crowd than my coronation," he said desperately, leaning against the wall and clutching at his heart. "I didn't know the square could hold that many people."

"Strictly speaking," Iroh said, glancing through the door behind them, "it can't. An awful lot of people were hanging out of second- and third-story windows."

"You did it, though!" Katara cried encouragingly, glaring at Iroh for making Zuko's panic attack worse than it already was. "And it was amazing. They really believe in you. And you didn't even forget anything!"

He started laughing then, more out of relief than actual humor, but she laughed along with him and hooked her arm into his, pulling him along to prepare for the magnificent dinner that Iroh had ordered. The entire palace had been going mad since the morning before, when they had announced the plan to do this speech-dinner thing, and the cooking staff had been working through the night, only stopping when Zuko himself glared the head cook into submission and made him give his workers time to sleep.

The problem was, Iroh's plan for dinner involved inviting a lot of lower- and middle-class people, as a gesture to show them that Zuko didn't only care about the powerful or the affluent. It was a good idea, but it also meant that none of them had really slept the night before, which only added to Zuko's nerves regarding the speech and Katara's generally short fuse.

Also adding to her annoyance was the elaborate red dress she had stupidly picked out, which showed off too much cleavage and had too much skirt and also involved silk, which she didn't trust herself in. She'd worn silk before, but she had never worn silk to a stressful dinner party involving lots and lots and lots of people, so she worried about what state the dress might be in by the time she took it off. And to make everything worse, Zuko hadn't even seemed to notice that she was dressed up as fancy as she'd ever been, which frustrated her more than she liked.

At the dinner they made their entrance, the two of them followed by a surprisingly gleeful Iroh, into a blinding, cavernous dining hall much different than the one she had become used to eating in. Several large tables had been set up, all heaped with enough food to feed Sokka for a year, and it was already teeming with people in all states of formal dress - here was a noble in silken robes, there was a star-struck young woman in a simple blue dress. It was the world she had worked for, strove to end the war for, and here it was, painted in front of her like a canvas. All of her anger, frustration, and annoyance melted away at the sight.

As they walked in, the room broke out into cheers, first sporadic and then stronger as everyone realized that their leader had arrived. Zuko stood still for a long moment, startled by the reaction, until she gave him a push and he snapped out of it, walking up to his seat on the main table, smiling genuinely as he went. She started to pull her arm away from his, but he held on and pulled her along with him, one of those tiny little actions that made her heart pound and that warm pulse throb in her belly.

_Oh_, it was so wrong - all these people would see her arm-in-arm with Zuko and word would get out that she seemed to be _with_ him and the gossips would all ask about Aang and Aang would find out and she would have so much to explain - but she couldn't find it in herself to care.

She smiled at Zuko and took her seat beside him.

* * *

_i run to the river and dive straight in  
i pray that the water will drown out the din

* * *

_

After eating, in spite of no one exactly planning it that way (except, she thought, Iroh), the dinner disintegrated into a real party, with a band of sailors pulling out a few instruments and striking up a jaunty tune, and a pack of servants moving the tables out of the way to create a hasty, make-shift dance floor. Zuko gave his uncle an admonishing glare which went thoroughly ignored as the old general stood up and made his way out to the floor, chasing the glance of a strangely familiar figure.

"Don't worry, nephew," he said, winking, "I've taken care of all the important things."

"But what about guards?" Zuko spluttered. "You know how hard it is to protect the perimeter when - "

"Relax," Iroh insisted. "I took care of that. My personal guards are stationed at each entrance and exit, making sure that no one has any weapons and that they don't leave with anything more than they brought with them - except food, of course. I've also made sure that any and all secret passages are closed off. You can relax. Talk to Lieutenant Jee, you remember him? He's over there with the band."

Zuko gaped at his uncle for a moment, and Katara tried her hardest not to laugh at the look of utter horror and shock on his face. "It'll be okay," she said, pushing him lightly. He turned to her, face still frozen in shock. She gave up all pretense and laughed out loud at this. "Look, you and I are both here, making sure that nothing happens. It's safe to relax some."

He finally closed his mouth and leaned back in his chair, sulking, muttering something about _could have at least said something to me_, and the like, so she abruptly stood up and reached out to him. He raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"

"Dance with me."

"You don't know any Fire Nation dances," he replied immediately, far too quickly. She glared.

"Shows how much _you _know. I do, in fact, know several Fire Nation dances, Mister Grumpypants."

"Don't call me that."

"Dance with me, Mister Grumpypants, or I'll keep doing it all night."

He sighed - like this was _such_ a burden - but he stood up and took her hand anyway. He was wearing the black gloves that went with his outfit, but she could feel the warmth of his skin even through them, and it occurred to her that she never seemed to make anything but really stupid decisions whenever she was around Zuko, this dancing idea being one of them. (Also included were the "sneaking into his room and scaring him," "fighting with him in a cramped place," "getting right up in his face to argue with him," and "not letting go of his arm in front of a whole lot of people" ideas.)

But thinking too much hadn't helped her yet, and she was tired of all the confusion and second-guessing and wondering about what she was doing or why she was doing it, so she decided that - for now, at least - she wasn't going to question herself. She would do what felt right, which hadn't failed her yet.

Out on the dance floor, he pulled her close, one hand on her waist and the other holding her hand, and she knew that she was making a terrible mistake, but it felt _so_ good and that drum-beat was pounding in her head and her mouth was dry and her face was flushed like she'd been drinking and her blood was warm in her veins and she couldn't think straight because he was right there and he was smiling and this felt _right_. This felt like the place she should have been all along, dancing with Zuko, her hand in his, her body moving in time with his, her back flush against him and then gone again as she spun away - but always holding on with that one hand in his grip, like he would never let go.

The music didn't seem to matter so much as the movement, the dance, the intoxicating, heady atmosphere between them, the smell of Zuko's soap and her own perfume and the food and the others around them, the sweet taste of tea on her tongue, the throbbing pulse in her stomach and mind. This was all kinds of wrong.

After the song ended, he pulled away from her, strangely distant, and bowed as another man stepped in to take his place. She watched him go, feeling lost, disappointed, and cold - like that night when she'd been in his room, convincing him to stay.

"Milady?" the man asked, and she turned to him sharply as he bowed. "May I have this dance?"

She didn't want to say yes, but if she turned him down, it would look even _more_ like she was with Zuko, so it was better that she did. "Of course," she replied, and forced herself to smile.

* * *

_but as the water filled my mouth  
it couldn't wash the echoes out

* * *

_

He left the dance almost an hour after she did - she knew, because she went straight to his room, and waited for him to arrive, arms crossed. She didn't move for the entire hour it took for him to finally get in, in spite of the fact that she was tired and would have liked little more than to collapse on his bed and sleep for the next year or so. When he opened the door and saw her standing there, he hesitated for a moment before walking in and closing the door behind him, leaning against it and watching her carefully.

"You're mad at me," he said unnecessarily.

"No, really?" she challenged, raising an eyebrow. "What tipped you off? The narrowed eyes, the crossed arms, or the outright glare?"

"Actually, it was the fact that you didn't bother to change before coming up here," he replied nonchalantly, still leaning against the door. She wondered if he might be slightly drunk - that was the only possible explanation for his utter lack of survival instinct. "What I'm not so sure of, though, is why."

The real answer was complicated and more than a little embarrassing: she was the one who helped him write his speech, stood by him when he gave it, sat next to him through the dinner, and even dragged him out to the dance floor, but he only danced with her once - once! - before blowing her off to dance with scads of adoring fangirls! It was downright infuriating, and he was an _idiot_ if he couldn't tell why. But worse, if that was the case, he would continue being oblivious because she wasn't about to _explain_ that to him.

"You didn't even thank me for the dance," she answered, a little lamely. "You're supposed to be a gentleman, aren't you?"

He stared at her blankly for a long moment. "You're mad because I didn't say thank you?"

"And also," she cried, stomping over to him, "you didn't thank me for helping you write out that speech or for standing up there with you or for keeping you from running away or for keeping you from having a panic attack - or anything! You can't take me for granted, you know!"

The vague amusement on his face fell at this, and he looked more serious than before. "I don't take you for granted, Katara."

"Well, you certainly act like it sometimes!" she shouted, masking her embarrassment with anger. "I didn't have to stay here, you know! I only stayed here because - " she caught herself before saying something that might either mess everything up or give too much away, but then she didn't have an answer for why she stayed here. Zuko leaned forward.

"Why did you stay here?" he asked, in a very soft voice.

She didn't have a reply prepared, although she didn't think she could come up with one, even if given longer than five seconds' notice. Instead, she stared right back at him, straight into his eyes. He was too close. She couldn't hear anything but her heartbeat, pounding loud in her ears, couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't move - all she could do was stand there and stare at him. Time seemed to slow down. His eyes moved back and forth over her face carefully, searching for something, and she felt his hand - still gloved - come up and cup her face. The harsh texture of the fabric was a bit startling, and she opened her mouth to breathe, or maybe say something, but all that came out was silence.

They both hesitated, waiting for the other to act, and finally Katara - her decision to do what _felt_ right weighing heavy in the back of her mind - leaned forward and kissed him, and the floodgates seemed to break. Her back hit the bedpost, a little painfully, and she reached up and pulled his hair down from its topknot, tossing aside the heavy gold headpiece, careless of where it landed. Zuko started and pulled away at the loud _thunk_ of his crown hitting the wall and rolling under the bed, and then burst into laughter.

"You're finding that," he said, and she rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, right," she replied, kissing him again. At some point, he pulled those stupid gloves off, which was both really good and really bad because now she could feel his hands and they were warm and calloused and strong - one wound its way into her hair, messing up the elaborate style she had spent _way too long_ on, and the other was on the small of her back, holding her close. She was reminded powerfully of the dance and the heady atmosphere, the way the rest of the world just fell away, the thick pulse in her stomach, the warmth, the desire, the movement.

She knew, without a doubt, that she was making a terrible mistake. If she wanted to stop this and maybe salvage her relationship with Aang or keep things from getting out of hand or keep Zuko at the comfortable semi-friendly distance they had maintained since she'd arrived here, then the time to do so was now, right now, while she was still wearing her dress and she was merely pressed up against his bedpost and his hand was only on her back.

But that was if she wanted to stop this, and she didn't, not at all. Aang would hate her, she thought vaguely. No one would understand. They would call her a whore, or worse. This was a terrible mistake, something she definitely shouldn't do. She was supposed to be In Love with Aang, right, and you didn't sleep with other men when you'd already found your One True Love.

She exhaled heavily, arching her back and tilting her head to the side as Zuko kissed her neck. She could feel his breath right underneath her earlobe, warm and close and _so_ intoxicating. This was a terrible mistake, to be sure.

Instead of doing anything smart, she did was felt right, and ran a hand through Zuko's hair, her fingernails scraping lightly against his skin, and he groaned into her neck. Abruptly, he stopped, pulling away just a fraction of an inch, breathing hard. "This is a bad idea," he whispered, but his hands clutched at her waist and in her hair like he didn't want to let go.

"Is that why you ran off after that dance?"

He sighed. "Everyone's talking about us. Aang - "

"I know," she said softly, running her fingers through his hair. "So, what do we do?"

He pulled back and looked at her, searching her face like he had before, and she wondered what he hoped to find. "I don't know," he replied hoarsely. His hands started to slip away like he was letting go, and she was suddenly gripped with the powerful need to hold on.

She bit her lip and met his eyes.

* * *

_i swallow the sound and it swallows me whole  
till there's nothing left inside my soul

* * *

_

He woke her up too early, right around sunrise, and she burrowed deeper into the warm, comfortable bed, muttered something about _five more minutes_, and nearly shrieked when her pillow vanished from under her head. In the semi-light of dawn, she glared at him, jerking the covers up to her shoulder and propping herself up on her elbows. He was sitting up, holding her pillow high in the air above his head, and something like amusement glinted in his eyes.

"You're a jerk," she growled, and he smirked.

"You still have to find my crown."

"Give me my pillow."

"_Your _pillow?" he asked, the smirk turning into a full-blown grin. Sex, it seemed, made the usually grumpy Zuko downright _cheerful_. Katara herself felt pretty good (if sore in quite a few new and interesting places) but her cheer was being steadily dampened by Zuko's damn good mood.

"Yes, _my_ pillow," she replied sharply, holding the blanket over her chest with one hand and reaching for the pillow with the other. Unfortunately, she wasn't anything like close enough to reach it. "I slept on it, it's mine. Give it back!"

"Make me," he challenged.

She glared at him, and then moved, faster than he could have possibly expected, ramming into his shoulder and forcing him onto his back, so she could straddle him and snatch the pillow from his hands. Unfortunately, by this point, she didn't really want to sleep anymore, and she had a feeling that this was probably his plan all along. "You're horrible," she said, sticking her tongue out at him as he smirked, and then - just to prove that she totally _could_ - she swung her leg around and hopped off his bed, casting around for clothes of some kind. Behind her, she could hear him laughing, and she tried not to blush.

She was, after all, completely naked. Instead of panicking the way she kind of _really_ wanted to, she raised her chin and surreptitiously looked around for her dress, or at least her underclothes, or maybe even one of his shirts, she really wasn't picky.

"Looking for this?" he asked, and when she whirled around, he was standing on the other side of the bed, wearing a loose pair of pants, and holding her underwear in one hand. He looked so amused it was sickening. For a long moment, she stood still, mind racing, and then she caught up with herself - she was an attractive nineteen-year-old woman, and Zuko had already proved that he was not immune to her charms, and she was also, at this moment, completely naked. He may have been holding her underwear, but she had _all _the power.

She grabbed the bedpost and twirled around it slowly, walking as seductively as she possibly could, trailing a hand over his sheets and sidling right up to him. He looked surprised, which she figured was a good thing, and she ran a hand down his chest and started playing lightly with the drawstring on his pants, while the other ran through his hair and she planted a slow, sultry kiss right on his lips. She knew she had won when he opened his mouth immediately and dropped the underwear to run his hands over her body - and it took a lot of willpower to break away and snatch her underclothes up from where they'd fallen.

If it hadn't been a matter of pride, she would have fallen right back into bed with him because _oh_ was he good with his hands. Instead, she danced away and left him standing at the bed, glaring at her as she slipped into the passage and closed it behind her.

* * *

_as empty as that beating drum  
but the sound has just begun

* * *

_

For a long moment, she just stood on the other side of his wall, breathing deep and trying to reign in her crazy heartbeat. Slowly, she tugged on the hard-won (literally) underwear and mused on what she planned to do now. She would have to tell Aang - maybe not everything, but she would at least have to break up with him, since she had no plans whatsoever of leaving the Fire Nation any time soon - and she would have to do that waterbending trick that Yugoda had (embarrassingly) taught her the last time she'd been in the Northern Water Tribe, to prevent unwanted pregnancy, and...

Oh, man, she had actually _slept with _Zuko. The realization, which she had been putting off since she'd looked him in the eyes the night before, hit her with the full force of a punch to the gut. She didn't regret it, but she did wish that the situation was different. That this didn't mean she was going to break Aang's heart. That maybe they had gone on a really corny, romantic date beforehand, maybe with candles and flowers.

She didn't want to think about what this all meant. She was well beyond the lie that she was in love with Aang, but what if all those people had been right, and she was actually the Avatar's destined lover? What would happen then? Would she be expected to just leave Zuko behind and stand by Aang's side for the rest of her life, pretending to be happy and having all of his babies and acting like she'd never wanted anything but him? And what did this mean for her and Zuko? Was it merely lust, or something more? She didn't know the difference between lust and love - she'd never felt either very strongly before coming here, and she couldn't tell which was which.

Vaguely, she remembered feeling lust when she was around Jet, that hollow desire to _touch_ and be touched, but it had been so long ago, and was so tainted with everything that happened after that, that she couldn't be sure. Aang had never made her blood hum the way Zuko did, and she knew that meant that she had really, really _wanted_ Zuko (still did, in fact) - but did it mean she was in love with him?

And if not, what did? Where did she draw the line between the two feelings?

She tried to imagine a world where she couldn't stay in the Fire Nation, where she pretended nothing had happened and she just went right back with Aang and played the perfect goddess Katara that he saw when he looked at her, and it made her sick to think about. She wanted to stay in the Fire Nation, not just because that meant being close to Zuko, but because she felt like she was actually doing something _right_ here, like she had a say in the world politics and could make a real difference, whereas with Aang, she had felt like she was just along for the ride. She liked the court and the palace and that comfortable chair in Zuko's office, and she liked helping him with all the work and rebellions and meetings.

The Fire Nation, against all odds, had begun to feel like home. She didn't want to leave it, and she definitely didn't want to leave Zuko. But did that mean she was in love with him? She ran a hand through her hair and tried to untangle it, sighing heavily. It was all so mixed-up and confusing and messy, and she wondered why matters of the heart were never easy.

It wasn't fair.

Finally, she made her way to the other end of the passage and opened it, and then her stomach fell right out of her body. Standing at the door, which was open for any passerby to see, was a servant.

"Oh," he said, eyes wide. She stood stock-still, completely unable to form a response. "Lady Katara," he coughed, and she tried to evaluate the situation: he may not know for certain, but it wasn't hard to guess where she'd been - here she was, coming in at dawn from a secret passage in the Fire Lady's room, dressed only in her underwear, hair a mess.

"Um," she replied dumbly. Before she could say anything or maybe stop the entire palace from finding out, the servant ducked into a low bow and all-but bolted from the room.

Within two hours, _everyone_ knew.

* * *

_there's a drumming noise inside my head  
and it starts when you're around

* * *

_

"Now what?" she groaned, face buried in her hands. Zuko, on the other side of the office, leaned back and stared at the ceiling.

"I don't know," he replied, slightly desperate. "You're welcome to stay."

"Is that a good idea?" she asked, looking up to him. He didn't move.

"Maybe? I don't know. The people like you, and you've been a huge help to me, and, well..." he trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck and finally looking to her, meeting her eyes from across the room. "I don't want you to go," he admitted quietly.

Maybe it wasn't love. She didn't really know - love was a complicated emotion, after all - but right now, it was enough that she wasn't alone. She felt like a terrible person for breaking her once-best-friend's heart, and a harlot besides, but at least Zuko was on her side, and at least he was standing there admitting that he wanted her to stay. She didn't know if that translated to love, or if it translated to just being stuck in a bad situation and making a string of bad decisions, but it was enough for the moment.

"I don't want to go," she whispered, and Zuko nodded.

* * *

_i swear that you could hear it  
it makes such an almighty sound_


End file.
